


Bee Mine

by Cobrilee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, M/M, stiles is a pain in the ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 22:19:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10475676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: Stiles and Derek are mortal enemies; at least, Derek is Stiles’ mortal enemy. It starts with pink hair, there’s a lot of honey in the middle, and it ends with a bee-youtiful card.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of five ficlets I'm writing for a giveaway I did on [Tumblr](http://cobrilee.tumblr.com/).

“I’m going to kill that smug, condescending, anal retentive bastard!” Stiles seethes as he storms into his dorm room. Danny glances up from the textbook he has spread out on his bed, one eyebrow lifting slightly. He’s fairly used to Stiles’ explosive rants, so it doesn’t merit a full brow raise. “That motherfucker challenged me in front of my entire Human Sexuality class and my professor thought it would be a good idea for both of us to write a research paper and present it to the class as a debate. Next Wednesday. As in, five days from today. I had  _ plans _ this weekend, Danny!” he whines, flopping onto his own bed, which is only two feet from Danny’s.

“Maybe if you didn’t antagonize the shit out of him every time you saw him, he wouldn’t challenge you in front of your professors,” Danny points out reasonably, then shifts his attention back to his Statistics text.

It’s a lost cause, because Stiles is aghast at Danny’s logic.  _ Aghast _ . “ _ I’m _ antagonizing  _ him _ ?” he parrots back, affronted. “Derek Hale made it his mission to ruin my life the first time he ever  _ met  _ me, and yet you think  _ I’m _ antagonizing  _ him _ ?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “Stiles. You mess up his order every time he comes in to get his coffee, which is literally a grande Americano. You can’t fuck that up unless you’re actively trying.”

“It’s a lame order,” Stiles sniffs. “Adding a splash of hazelnut syrup or coconut milk is a  _ kindness _ , Daniel.”

“And you’ve dropped your books on nearly every part of his body by now,” Danny continues, ignoring Stiles as he usually does. “In a way that is obviously deliberate.”

“Testing his reflexes,” Stiles mutters, but Danny’s proven his point, and he knows it. “Anyway, he started it.”

Danny groans. “You’re an actual child,” he informs his best friend with equal measures of affection and exasperation. “He didn’t do it on purpose.”

“My hair was pink for a solid month, Danny.  _ Pink _ . Not that I have anything against funky colors in hair, but I couldn’t pull it off. It washed me out, and no one took me seriously. My entire academic career started out on the lowest track possible because he pulled a childish prank.”

Danny watches him with a look so flat he might as well be a minor chord. “It’s not his fault you borrowed Warren Hart’s shampoo. You should have known better than to borrow anything from a pledge.”

“Fucking fraternity hazing,” Stiles grumbles, but he deflates. He’s gotten his last tired, aching mile out of ending up with a head full of cotton candy colored hair. “Moving on from the dubious nature of our introduction, Derek has just been a self-righteous, pompous prick ever since. I hate him. I want to make him feel pain all the way down to his soul for this one.”

“Haven’t you ever heard the adage that you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar?” Danny sighs, trying once again in vain to go back to the fascinating explanation of a binomial distribution.  

“What the fuck, Danny? Why would I want to catch flies?” Stiles asks, and Danny blinks.

“Not the point, Stiles.”

Stiles opens his mouth to object, but stops short. His eyes start to twinkle, then gleam, then suddenly they’re overtaken by giddy evil. “You’re a genius, Daniel. A motherfucking genius.”

“I’m gay,” Danny reminds him, amused, but Stiles doesn’t hear him. He has a plan now. A wonderful, evil plan that makes his heart sing.

\-----

“What the hell?” Derek snarls, pulling his hand back from his comforter. Both his hand and comforter are thoroughly sticky.

Isaac wrinkles his nose. “Get that away from my side of the room.”

“There’s not even enough room for two sides,” Derek snaps, starting to wipe his hand on his pants before realizing that will just smear the sticky even further, without doing anything to solve his problem. “Why the fuck is my bed covered in honey?”

“How the hell should I know?” Isaac asks, lifting his hands in a helpless, ‘how the hell should I know’ gesture. “I wasn’t here last night, I don’t know what kind of kinky shit you did.”

Derek glares. Isaac is completely used to that kind of reaction; it’s Derek’s default expression, after all. “I was studying last night, at the library. I have a research paper due in my Human Sexuality class.”

“Oh right, the one you got roped into when you baited Stilinski into an argument on sexual repression.”

“Worth it,” Derek retorts smugly. “But I wasn’t here. I have no idea how honey ended up everywhere.”

“Maybe you were acting out your secret food kink,” Isaac suggests wryly. “Since your mind is on sexual repression, maybe it triggered a desire to get naked and covered in honey.”

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. “I hate you. Now leave.”

“Gladly.” Isaac grabs his Statistics book and heads for the door. Twisting the knob, he glances back bemusedly at the comforter. “I mean it, don’t get that anywhere near my stuff.”

“If you don’t get out of here, I’m going to flip it upside down on your bed and roll around on it,” Derek threatens.

“Leaving.”

\-----

Stiles snickers to himself as Derek scowls down into his coffee, which is a grande Americano sweetened with about a quarter cup of honey. His brilliant plan has been in effect for two days and he can tell Derek is on the verge of snapping.

“What the hell is your problem, Stiles?” Derek snaps, shoving the cup at him. 

Stiles bats his eyes prettily. “You don’t like it?”

“I just want a fucking cup of coffee,” Derek yells, flushing when he realizes he’s attracted a lot of unwanted attention from the shop’s patrons, and not in the way he’s used to. “Make me a regular grande Americano. No extras. No flourishes. Just a plain cup of coffee, got it?”

“If you ask me, you could use a little bit of sweetening,” Stiles tells him with a smirk as he makes the replacement coffee. 

Derek’s glare is like laser beams. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Stiles pushes the new cup of coffee back to him, grinning. “Why Derek, I’m catching flies.”

\-----

Derek throws his books on his tiny desk and rounds on Isaac, who’s relaxed back on his bed and watching Derek with a mix of amusement and wariness. “It’s fucking  _ Stiles _ ,” he explodes, flinging a tiny bottle of honey in the shape of a bear at Isaac’s leg. Isaac jumps just in time and the bear lands harmlessly on his comforter. “Stiles is the person who doused my bed in honey!”

“How do you know?” Isaac queries, nudging the bottle away with his foot so he can settle back in comfortably. 

Derek flops onto his own bed, still bristling. “I just put it together. My coffee the other day was so sweet it tasted like I was swallowing syrup. He always fucks with my coffee, though, so I didn’t think anything of it. Then I was coming out of my Sexuality in Literature class yesterday and a fucking delivery kid showed up with this box for me, and when I opened it, it was a honey cookbook and a set of fancy flavored honeys. I still didn’t know who it was, but when I got into work today I had that stupid thing waiting for me.” He glares at the bear in derision, and Isaac’s brow furrows.

“How does that tell you it’s Stiles?”

“Because he left a note,” Derek bites out, pulling it out and reading it in a voice that could be more accurately described as a growl. “Hope you like the gift set, but I saw this little guy and thought he was more your  _ style _ .”

“I think you’re giving Stilinski too much credit,” Isaac scoffs, kicking the bear off the bed. They both watch as it lands next to Derek’s. “Subtlety is not usually his thing.”

Derek glares balefully at the bear, muttering under his breath that he knows it’s Stiles and he’s going to kick his ass for it. Gradually, though, he settles into researching his Human Sexuality paper while Isaac becomes absorbed in one of his books.

A couple hours later, his stomach rumbles and he realizes he hasn’t eaten since breakfast that morning. Absentmindedly, still thinking about his research, he swings his legs over the bed and stands. Before he can recognize what it is that he’s stepping on, the bottle bursts under his weight and honey oozes out under his foot.

Isaac’s startled out of his studies by a furious roar.

\-----

Stiles is humming under his breath, taking advantage of the lack of customers to arrange the syrup bottles tidily and wipe up some spilled milk, when Derek and Isaac make their way into the coffee shop. Derek’s scowl is even blacker than normal, which causes Stiles’ smile to stretch until it takes up his whole face. “Morning, sweet stuff,” he says with a wink at Derek, grabbing a grande cup to start making Derek’s usual Americano. “Isaac. What can I get for you?”

“Chai tea latte,” Isaac answers, and Stiles nods agreeably, gathering up the necessary ingredients. Before he begins, he twists to plop Derek’s drink down on the counter. 

Derek picks it up and sniffs suspiciously, then takes a tentative sip. “It’s a plain Americano,” he says, his voice colored by both bafflement and what sounds suspiciously like disappointment.

Stiles blinks. “Isn’t that what you always order?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“He’s just so used to you fucking with his coffee,” Isaac explains, snickering. “He doesn’t know what to do with you now.”

“I’m sure Stiles has some ideas,” Danny interjects dryly, coming out of the back room to change out one of the old pastry trays with a new, fresh one. Isaac perks up. 

“Danny, Danny,” Stiles sighs, shaking his head. “I’ve stopped wanting to murder him, so whatever you’re thinking, you can stop.” Derek looks from Stiles to Danny, head tilting adorably like a confused puppy. 

A smirk curves Danny’s lips. “That’s not exactly what I was getting at.” He notices Isaac then, and his expression morphs into a charming smile as he extends his hand to Isaac. “Danny Mahealani. Nice to meet you.”

Isaac shakes his hand shyly. “So how long have you had to put up with these two dumbasses’ feud?”

Danny snorts. “Since day one. I was moving into the dorm when Stiles came storming out of the showers with pink hair. I’ve never heard the end of it.”

Derek looks puzzled for a few moments, but then recognition hits and he stares at Stiles in mute horror. “I thought someone tipped Hart off that his shampoo bottle was tampered with, and that’s why he didn’t end up with pink hair. I didn’t know you got caught in the crossfire.” 

“Whatever, Hale,” Stiles grumbles, annoyed at the reminder of why, exactly, he hates Derek so much. “Are we done here?”

Before anyone can answer, he spins on his heel and heads for the back. He can hear Danny flirting with Isaac as he swings the door open and disappears.

\-----

Derek is so rattled that he completely fucks up his side of the debate the next morning in class. Stiles thoroughly trounces him, and he’s unanimously declared the winner. Derek can’t even bring himself to care.

“Good job,” he tells Stiles after class, hovering awkwardly as Stiles collects his things. 

“I know,” Stiles retorts, smug grin spread across his entirely-too-gorgeous face, and Derek winces. “What the fuck happened to you? I was expecting more of a challenge.”

Derek scowls. “My mind wasn’t on my presentation.”

“Clearly,” Stiles snorts, hauling his backpack up and grabbing his coffee cup from the top of his desk, tossing it in the trash can as they pass it. “Hopefully you didn’t do as badly on the paper.”

Cocking his head, Derek studies Stiles quizzically. “I wouldn’t have imagined you’d care about my grades.”

“I don’t.” Stiles sniffs, turning his face away from Derek. Derek grins. “I’m just not used to you fucking up, that’s all.” He turns back and sees Derek’s grin, and scowls. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“That smug fucking smile did. Shut up.”

“Sure, Stiles.”

“I hate you.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

When he gets back to his dorm after work later that night, he finds another bottle of honey, this one shaped like a bee. It has an overly-large stinger made out of a cone of notebook paper, and a scowl drawn on its face with black Sharpie. He laughs.

\-----

Stiles gives up on the honey thing. It’s lost the amusement factor, and he’s kind of tired of fighting with Derek anyway. He will swear up and down that it has nothing to do with the fact that Derek’s made a point to talk to him more, and smile at him a lot. Or the fact that they’ve started walking out of class together every Wednesday and Friday. Or because Derek starts lingering at the coffee counter, or leaving larger tips. 

He’s just tired of holding a grudge, okay? Besides, it’s not like Derek actually meant for Stiles to be the one to end up with pink hair, after all. He can’t hold it against the guy for the rest of his life.

“Grande-”

“Americano, yeah, yeah,” he sighs, tone full of fond affection-fuck, when did that become a thing-as he grabs for a grande cup. He could make the drink in his sleep, so he lets himself think about the way Derek’s eyes are probably crinkling as he smiles behind Stiles, and the way he’s probably leaning his hip into the counter, and how he’ll see him in class tomorrow and they’ll walk out together again, laughing at something stupid the other (okay, let’s be real, Stiles) said instead of arguing or insulting each other.

When he turns he sees the smile and the eye-crinkle, and he bites his lip to try to hold back his own grin. Derek hands over a ten dollar bill and Stiles goes to make change, but Derek waves him off. “I’ve been stiffing you on the tip for months,” he says sheepishly, and Stiles almost makes a comment about something else he could stiff, but no, that’s not what they are, and Stiles kinda likes where they’re at, and he’s not going to fuck it up. “Go ahead and keep it.”

“Thanks,” he replies, tucking the bills into the tip jar. He waits, but Derek doesn’t leave. “So I guess I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

Derek nods, cheeks turning pink. “Unless…” He stops, and Stiles finds himself leaning forward. “Unless you’d like to maybe do something tonight after work? Like a movie or something?”

Stiles stands up, cheeks flushing even deeper than Derek’s. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good. I’d like that.”

Derek’s smile is so big it’s blinding. Stiles might be a little in love with it. “Yeah? Yeah. Great. I’ll, uh, text you.” He backs up, nearly tripping, and they both laugh. “See you later.”

“See you later,” he echoes, and he spends the rest of his shift all but floating on air.

\-----

It’s their fourth date when Derek starts getting a little twitchy, and Stiles wonders if he’s about to be broken up with. Not that they’re officially together, but they’re getting there. Or at least Stiles thinks they are. He’s happy, happier than he ever thought he could possibly be with Derek Hale. Not that he’d ever thought about it before they started dating, but if he had, he never would have imagined they could be this happy.

But Derek’s twitchy. His kiss is perfunctory, and Stiles is anxious, just waiting for Derek to explain that he’s not feeling it anymore, that they’d made a mistake.

Then he hands Stiles a small box, and Stiles feels like he wouldn’t be getting a breakup gift, so maybe they’re okay.

When he opens the box, his mouth drops open and Derek snorts a little. Stiles pulls out a small set of honey jars, shaped like a hexagon and interlocking, each one a different shade and presumably a different flavor. He sees a card underneath and sets the honey jars aside, pulling the card out and grinning at the picture of the bee on the front. The bee is semi-anthropomorphic, with a scarily human-looking face. When he opens it, the words inside are simple, but cheesy enough to make him laugh. “You make my heart buzz. Will you bee mine?”

“You knew it was me?” 

Derek smirks. “What can I say, it was a pretty distinctive Stilinski move.”

“Danny told me I’d catch more flies with honey than vinegar,” Stiles explains with a shrug, but his eyes are twinkling.

“I’m not sure how I feel about being compared to a fly,” Derek replies dryly, “but the honey did its job.”

Stiles leans forward, reaching for Derek’s hands, and beams. “I think I owe Danny big time. And yes, by the way. I’m all yours.”

Derek flips his hands so they can lace their fingers together. “That’s the sweetest news I’ve heard all day.”

Stiles can’t help snickering as he leans in a little further, and Derek does too. “That amount of sugar is going to put me into a diabetic coma,” he teases, but then Derek kisses him, and Stiles is pretty okay with it.


End file.
